


Between Soup And Getting Lost

by Koneia



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Post-Endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-10 03:17:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17418023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koneia/pseuds/Koneia
Summary: Ingredients for this story: Take one bone-tired command team that has to face another evening of tiresome preparations for the next day’s debriefings. Prepare a mushroom soup and let the Commander have some unwanted revelations. Stir things and then wait what happens. Add some Gretchen if needed.





	Between Soup And Getting Lost

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JoAryn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoAryn/gifts).



> Some of you may have noticed that I haven’t posted any story for almost four years. Too many family members and friends lost way too early during this time - there was simply no strength left within me to face the inner turmoil and the emotions that inevitably surge when I write on stories. Restarting to write again on the occasions of the birthdays of my dear friends JoAryn and Malezita was indeed an adventure of its own. I struggled a lot and without JoAryn’s, Malezita’s, Sabine’s KJaneway115’s (who also beta-ed this story) and Indian Summer 2378’s support, I wouldn’t have been able to do it. Huge, huge thanks to you all!!!
> 
> So, without further ado - here is JoAryn’s birthday story, which turned out to be way fluffier than planned. But then, Malezita’s birthday story, which I is currently in beta, turned out much angstier than planned ;-) 
> 
> Ah yes … the disclaimer: no, I still don’t own the characters *sigh*.

“Last time I felt that drained and unnerved was when I was the equivalent of rat in a ship-wide alien experiment,” Kathryn grumbled as she stepped into the small flat that Starfleet had assigned to her for the duration of the debriefings.

Yawning, I follow her over the threshold and schlepp myself towards the tiny desk in one corner of her main room, unceremoniously dumping the pile of PADDs on its surface that will occupy the major part of our evening and subsequently at least the next day.

“The PADDs are on the desk,” I yawn again. Shrugging off my jacket, I throw it over the arm of a chair before I slump into it.

She, too, shrugs off her jacket, snatches mine from the chair as she walks towards her bedroom, where she will probably throw them into the refresher. I don’t care. I just want to sleep.

A few minutes later she strolls out of the bedroom again, brushing her hair, apparently having had a short shower - judging from the fresh scent that breezes through the air. “Did you bring along the reports we have to go through?”

“Yes,” I chuckle and open my eyes. “As I told you already a few minutes ago, I put them on the desk.”

Bracing herself against the wall, she rubs her face. “Sorry, Chakotay, I forgot.”

Heaving myself out of the chair, I walk towards her and I lay my hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry. We are all bone-tired.”

She yawns fiercely and pats my arm. “Coffee?”

My glance darts to the pile of PADDs on the desk which we have until tomorrow morning to process to avoid our asses being kicked too hard. Sighing, I also rub my face. It’s going to be a long night. Again. At least the company is nice. “One with awakening-from-the-dead-strength, please. Otherwise, I will flake out before the second PADD.”

“Your wish, my pleasure.” She sighs and heads towards the replicator.

“How about I’ll start with a mushroom soup and you start reading the reports so that you can fill me in about the juicy parts afterwards?”

Smiling wearily, she places a hot and steamy coffee before me. “Sounds delicious. So we are following the same procedure as every day, Commander?”

“If you don’t have any alternative suggestions, then I would suggest the same procedure as every day, Captain. After all, it has worked out fine so far.” Digging around in the kitchen, I search for an onion, while Kathryn settles on the couch to start skimming through the first few PADDs. Did I really use all onions yesterday? I am sure there must be at least one. Tired brain be damned.

“I didn’t use all the onions yesterday, did I?” I call from the kitchen.

Cuddled in her afghan with the coffee mug in her hand, she looks up from the PADD, comfort radiating from her despite all the extreme stresses and strains of the last months from two quadrants. She frowns. “No, there must be one left. You said so yesterday. Or otherwise we would have gone to the market today. Replicate one?”

“You know I prefer fresh- … Ah, got it!” I say triumphantly and reach for the knife. It’s these small daily triumphs I really treasure, those which tell you that you are having something resembling a life. Not those which merely tell you that you have once more have escaped from certain death. Until the next time.

 A comfortable silence embraces the room again, while I struggle with this particular specimen of onion which is one of the teary sort. Wiping my eyes with my sleeve, I peek over at Kathryn. The sunset’s warm light shines through her hair, graces the skin of her weary, pale features. She chews on her lower lip in concentration, a strand of hair regularly disturbing her view which she shoves away without noticing it.

I can’t help the smile spreading over my face. Can’t help watching her sitting there, so beautiful, so fully relaxed. Warmth fills my heart that longs to reach for her, embrace her, kiss-

I feel like someone just threw me out of the airlock. Hastily I throw the chopped onion into the hot pot. Okay, old man, breathe! My pulse races. What was that? I mean, it’s been a while since my thoughts of her were like that … Years, for crying out loud! We’re friends. Close friends, right?

The mushrooms. Where are those bloody bastards? Ah here. Knife. Chopping. Focus, Chakotay.

We are close friends. That’s all that there is to say about it. The necessities of the Delta Quadrant have merged the two of us, two enemies, together. We eventually became friends. Right? Sure, we fell for each other at some point. At least for a while. But that didn’t survive the burdensome life in the Delta Quadrant.

I lift my head. Watch her as she sips her coffee in deep content, her eyes still focused on the PADD. And my heart breaks as reality hits me like a shuttle crash. It has survived. At least on my side. Dented and hurt it may be, but it is. Still. There.

I feel like floating beside myself.

“Chakotay? You’re alright?” She looks alarmed, ready to jump from the couch.

Avoiding her look and throwing the amorphous mass that once had been mushrooms into the pot, I clear my throat. “I am fine. Just a bit tired.”

“Do you need any help?” she asks, the worried undertone in her voice evident.

“No, thanks, I am almost finished. The soup just needs to simmer a while.” Adding the water and the spices, I desperately focus on stirring the liquid. Snatch a spoon and try it. It’ll need more salt. “How are our reports? How badly will we probably be flogged tomorrow? Any evasive maneuvers needed from our side?”

I feel her glance on me. She knows that I am out of sorts. We know each other way too well. Sighing inwardly, I walk towards the cupboard to fetch the plates. Her glance follows me. The plates feel welcomingly solid in my fingers and I start to lay our table.

That’s when the next realization hits my gut, forces me to halt in my movements, forces me to close my eyes.

Our table.

I do see it that way, don’t I? This tiny flat, her flat, feels like home. In these three months I became so acquainted, so at home with every corner of it - except for the bedroom - that I could walk and work in it blindly. In fact, considering Kathryn’s cooking talent, the kitchen is indeed … mine.

Swallowing hard, I continue with the plates, reach for the cutlery.

Well, let’s face it.

Since _Voyager_ arrived on earth’s door step, we have been forced to work together even more closely than before. Day in, day out, we continue to share the majority of our everyday life - except for the kinky parts in the bed room which we deliberately block out.

In the Delta Quadrant we’ve seen each other at our worst. Here in the Alpha Quadrant the debriefings as well as our own reports on those incidents force us to go through the worst again. This time from more distance, with the knowledge that we made it, without having to fear that another enemy just lurks around the corner. This time with the knowledge that many of our misplaced, erroneous actions were the results of overbearing stress-levels. Our evening preparations for next day’s debriefings have been hard on us, as were the debriefings themselves. But this time we more or less pull together, focus together on how to explain things, how to make ourselves understood, how to lessen the impact of our doings. And in doing so, we understand each other better in our wrong-doings, find for the first time words of excuse, allowing the ripped open wounds to heal, allowing our connection to deepen once more.

Except for the glaring absence of sex, we could be very well married. There would be probably not much difference in the depth of our relationship. Except for the sex, of course.

“Chakotay?”

Her soft touch on my arm, her voice directly besides me makes me jump almost to the ceiling. The fork that I just had been holding, shoots unceremoniously along the table and pierces into the cushion on a chair. There it remains stuck. “Argh, Kathryn. Don’t give me a heart attack!”

She glances at the fork, then to me. “Heavens, Chakotay. What’s the matter? You were miles away.”

“Umm, I was distracted a bit.”

“You do look very pale. Are you feeling unwell?”

I shift uncomfortably under her scrutinizing view. “I am fine, okay?”

From the look in her eyes it is evident that I am failing miserably at convincing her. “Alright, Chakotay. Let’s eat the soup and then please go home and get some sleep. Tomorrow is about the Omega Directive. It’s only my butt that will be roasted and I think I can deal with it easily without in-depth preparation.”

Butt. Bad choice of word. My jaw clenches as long suppressed images gallop through my mind.

“Besides,” she continues, increasing uneasiness sneaking into her own body language as must be sneaking into mine, “you certainly want to spend some time with Seven.”

She could very well have hit me into the face.

Seven.

Right. Darn!

I have been overlooking that issue, definitely, too. For three whole months. My fingers dig deep into a chair’s back, the nausea almost taking me down.

I am so fucked. Metaphorically, of course.

“Chakotay, I am sorry if-”

“Please stop it, Kathryn,” I cut her sentence short. Lifting my head, I meet her eyes, an expression of soul-tearing hurt and helplessness in them.

So now what? Being a prize idiot of galactical dimensions doesn’t justify feeling so utterly, perfectly at home, here, in Kathryn’s flat. It doesn’t justify that I’d forgotten about Seven in the chaos that had reigned in my life since _Voyager_ dropped into orbit around Earth. It doesn’t justify not enlightening Kathryn about these issues, here, now, and to let her remain in the dark. Regardless how she feels about me, regardless of if there is anything beyond friendship between us left.

“Look, Chakotay,” she fidgets with her fingers, “I am aware that you both will most probably marry soon, like in the Admiral’s timeline-”

“Marry?” She must be kidding.

“I am fine with it, really,” she adds hastily.

I stare at her, not believing a word. Because … I eye her closely. Because her body language tells me otherwise. Because we have come too close the last three months. Maybe already past the point of no return.

What a mess …

She continues to babble. “That’s why I don’t want to impose on your relationship during the debriefings more than necessary and-”

I lift my hand and she immediately trails off. Burying my face in my hand, I take a deep breath with the heartfelt longing to be able to cloak and fade into nothingness. “What an incredible mess,” I murmur.

“What?”

Dropping my hand to my side, I meet her gaze. “What an incredible mess,” I repeat, louder.

“Which mess?” she asks, positively baffled.

Something beeps. “Soup is ready,” I say weakly, thankful for the interruption, and head for the kitchen.

When I return with the bowl, she stands beside the table, one hand loosely hanging at her side, pinching the bridge of her nose with the other. “Alright, Chakotay, I lost track of our conversation somewhere between you getting married to Seven and the soup getting finished. Care to fill me in with the gaps?”

 “I lost track long before that,” I say, cautiously placing the steaming soup on the table.

She cocks an eyebrow. “Where exactly?”

Tugging my ear, I smile sheepishly. “Somewhere around chopping the onions and me being in a relationship with Seven.”

She frowns. “But I have it on good authority that you both are dating.”

Fetching the glasses and the wine, I play for time, painfully aware of her watching every move of mine. “Chakotay?” she asks when I don’t respond immediately.

Not daring to look at her while I arrange the items on table, I clear my throat. “Your informant is right. Kind of.”

“Kind of?” I feel like I‘m being glared at.

I am so … dead. Tugging my ear again, I straighten to meet the glare directed towards me. Here it goes. “Kathryn, you are the scientist. Do the math. Ever since we debarked from _Voyager_ and the debriefings started - how much of my time during these three months have I spent here with you and how much remained for me to stay in my quarters? How much of that remaining time do you think I needed for showering and sleeping?”

For seconds, she stares at me. Then she puts her hands on her hips, her voice eerily calm. “You are not trying to tell me that you forgot that you were dating Seven, are you?”

“I am.”

Her eyes narrow. “Are you even remotely aware of the responsibility of being the first proper relationship for someone, especially someone with Seven’s predicament?”

Leaning with my hip against the table, I cross my arms over my chest. “I would not call it a proper relationship, Kathryn. We merely kissed twice and apparently our non-existent communication the last months was not an issue for her either. Apart from that Seven and I lack any deeper understanding of each other, as for example you and I have. However, you are totally right in your assessment that I am a complete arse.”

“I never said that.”

“But you thought it.”

Her eyes tell me that she had indeed. Groaning, she pinches the bridge of her nose again. “I feel like we are dealing with a temporal paradox.”

“Well, most probably because it partly is.”

“Evasive maneuvers, Commander,” she grunts, still pinching the bridge of her nose.

“I know,” I sigh. “Let me ask you something, Kathryn.”

Wearily, she waves her hand. “Go ahead.”

“In all these three months …. us working late into the night for the debriefings … sharing almost all our spare time together … Why did it occur to you only today that I might want to go home earlier because of my relationship with Seven?“

She remains silent. Stares at the floor with her hands again on her hips. Chews on her lower lip.

Stifling a laugh, I lean forward with my arms still crossed over my chest. “Face it, Kathryn, you forgot too.”

Raising her chin, she meets my view, the determination in her face the same she has when she leads Voyager into battle. “Lately, yes.”

“Lately,” I say slowly, stretching every syllable, unable to keep the amusement out of my voice.

“That’s not funny in the least, Chakotay,” she growls.

“No, Kathryn, on the contrary. It is actually pretty pathetic. And it is about time that it stops.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Her clenching jaw betrays her. She pretty well knows where I am heading. And she is afraid. Hell, I am scared shitless myself.

“Tell me, Kathryn,” I say softly, trying to reign in my inner turmoil, reading my own fear in the depth of her eyes. “Did you feel as comfortable as I felt in your company, even enjoyed it more then you ever care to admit? Is there a part of you that wouldn’t find it strange at all if we called it a night and said good morning to each other without having to part? Have you ever considered that we have already lived in a more deep relationship, for years, than most people do? That two superficial, hell ANY superficial kiss or even sex with anyone else would merely scratch the surface of what we share?”

Her eyes widen. Hastily she looks away, her face even more pale than before. The silence that descends upon us is pregnant with meaning, unspoken hurt, never admitted feelings.

We both jump almost out of our skin as a loud beeping blares through the room.

“That must be my mother. She wrote me today that she’ll call in the evening…,” she mutters under her breath.

Shrugging, I nod towards the view screen on her desk in the corner of the room. “It’s okay, Kathryn. Go and respond. I’ll prepare the salad meanwhile. It’s not that this elephant will vanish soon anyway.”

“No, it won’t,” she says with a weak smile on her face, and gently squeezes my arm as she passes by to answer the call, the comfortable warmth of her fingers seeping unhindered into my soul. I am a lost cause.

“Hi mom,” I hear Kathryn say, while I fetch the ingredients for the salad.

_“You look awful, sweetheart. What happened? Are there problems with the debriefings?”_

Kathryn sighs deeply. “No, on the whole the debriefings are going fine so far. Don’t worry, I’m just tired. How are you, mom?”

_“Don’t divert from the topic, Kathryn.”_

I can’t suppress a chuckle at this. Her mother definitely has guts. But then, she is Kathryn’s mother after all.

Kathryn withdraws her glance from the screen and sends something in my direction that closely resembles one of those warning stares reserved for bad-ass aliens. I almost miss the carrot. “Watch it, Mister.”

_“Mister?”_

Rolling her eyes towards me, Kathryn focuses back to her mother. “Chakotay and I were in the middle of a discussion when you called, that’s why I appear a bit distracted. Now, how are you? How did Phoebe’s exhibition go?”

_“Why do I have the feeling that this discussion is of importance?”_

Propping her head on her hand, Kathryn glares at her mother. “You are not going to drop it, aren’t you?”

_“Is this a rhetorical question, dear?”_

“No. How many people attended the exhibition?”

_“What were you discussing?”_

“Mom!”

A short pause follows in which Kathryn shoots a blistering glare at the screen, which is no doubt reciprocated by her mother. _“Alright, Kathryn. My gut tells me to not drop it, and thus I won’t. You can close the line now, but I will ask you each time we have contact until I have an answer.”_

“Mom, you have no idea into what you are poking.”

 _“On the contrary,”_ she answers, very softly. _“I think I have quite an idea. And if I it is true, then I am very happy for you both that you finally resolved it.”_

Palming her face, Kathryn utters an unintelligible curse. My pulse quickens as she finally turns around and seeks my eyes. I know that look. That’s the one she has when she has decided that going full throttle is the only option. It scares the hell out of me. “Chakotay, how fast do you want to get rid of the elephant?”

It is as if time halts. The many years I’d hoped for this moment. The many years I’d struggled to give up ever experiencing this moment. The many years with the bitter acceptance that it never will be. And now it is. For the second time on this day, I fell like I am floating beside myself.

“Chakotay?” She watches me, the worry evident in her voice.

My consciousness snaps back. My body gasps for air. And I know that the elephant, which had been present for more than seven years, just had evaporated into thin air. Holding her gaze, I slowly walk towards the woman that has quietly captured my soul, a misty smile forming on her face, her eyes brightening with each step I come closer.

“I’d say, seven years of applied elephantism are enough,” I say hoarsely as I come to stand beside her.

“Agreed,” she replies and, reaching for my hand with cold, slightly shaking fingers, she weaves her fingers through mine. Peace washes over me as I drink in the sight of our intertwined hands.

“Now you have your answer, mom,” she says tenderly, and slowly breaking our eye contact, she turns around to the screen again. Following her example, I meet the teary smile of an elderly woman, so much like Kathryn. For endless moments she observes us, then places her hand on the screen.

 _“I thought you two had already progressed much further … I am so sorry for disturbing-”_ she whispers, barely audible.

“Don’t be,” I interrupt her. “You might just have spared us a few days or even months of further beating around the bush. We have a knack for that.”

 _“Hello Chakotay,”_ she says quietly. _“Welcome to the family.”_

My throat tightens at her words. I am not prepared for her saying that. For anybody saying that ever to me. Let alone being part of Kathryn’s family. Diverting my eyes, I take a shuddering breath. Feel Kathryn’s soft squeeze of my hand.

Slowly I find my inner center again. “Thank you, Ms Janeway,” I whisper.

 _“It’s okay, Chakotay. Please call me Gretchen,”_ she says tenderly. _“You are family. For those of us in the Alpha Quadrant, you’ve already been that for a long time. You have no idea how much it means to me of being able to say that to you directly.”_ She pauses and focuses on Kathryn again. _“I’ll call Owen and ask if the debriefings can be stopped for a few days. You all need a rest.”_

“Mom, please-”

_“You both just agreed to share your life together, but you look so exhausted and worn out that you probably will merely be able to collapse into bed rather than to get it a go-”_

“Mom!” Kathryn growls. And I have a hard time defocusing from the picture in my head that Gretchen just had evoked. Kathryn and me. In bed. And doing … Okay, let’s not go there. Yet.

Her mother simply shrugs in response.

Kathryn leans forward to the screen. “Mom, we have food. Enough medical supplies. We are on friendly ground and we won’t be attacked out of the blue. We may be tired, but we are fine,” she states fiercely. “We are used to constant exhaustion. It will cease eventually.”

 _“Yes,”_ Gretchen replies, her jaw set in determination. _“And that’s why this ordeal has to stop so that you can catch your breath again. Now go to sleep you two. I’ll arrange matters.”_

Sighing, Kathryn shakes her head. ”Thank you, I guess.”

 _“You’re welcome. Good night.”_ She leans forward to close the line, but then straightens again, a mixture of amusement and seriousness on her face. _“Ah yes, you both. I know, you have still a lot of things to clarify between the two of you. However, you might want to replicate condoms if your boosters are not up to date. As much as I’d appreciate grandchildren, I’d recommend having at least a few months of couple time for yourself before you start the next adventure.”_ Then the comm goes black.

We both stare at the view screen, not daring to look at each other.

Running my fingers through my hair, I shift from one foot to the other. Kathryn still appears to be dumbfounded.

“Errrr…” I eventually manage to say. “This conversation is light years away from any conversation that I had expected to happen today or any day in the near future.”

Leaning back in her chair, she massages her neck, still staring at the blank screen. “I will have to give you a bunch of blanket apologies for any inconvenience my family is going to cause in the near future.”

An awkward silence settles in the room. Not that I blame any of us. In addition to the exhaustion we already feel, things between the two of us have progressed at transwarp speed today. The definition of easily digestible is definitely different.

All of a sudden Kathryn jolts to her feet and heads back towards the center of the room.

“Kathryn?”

“Soup is getting cold and I am hungry.”

“Okay…?” I say slowly, watching her as she passes the table. A laugh escapes me. “Kathryn, I served the soup already. And everything else we need for dinner.”

“I know.”

“Then what are you doing at the replicator?”

She types in a few commands. “My boosters are definitely not up to date as your probably aren’t either - considering the duration of the debriefings and your lack of interaction with Seven. Your size Chakotay?”

“What?” She is not asking for …, is she?

Slowly, she turns around, a faint red coloring on her cheeks. Her eyes drop to my crotch. Okay, she is. My knees instantly go weak, indirectly proportional to what another part of my anatomy does.

“I don’t know,” I say in all earnestness and cross the room. Whatever she sees as I approach her, definitely makes her nervous. Good. Because I am fed up of being the only one who feels like an airlocked tribble in space today. She shivers as I step before her, so close that I can see the rapid heartbeat in her neck. So close that the air of her breaths skim over my skin. I lean even closer, whisper in her ear. “You are the scientist, Captain. If you want to know, you’ll have to determine the size by yourself.”

Slightly leaning into me, exposing her neck, she husks, “Acknowledged, Commander.”

I take the clue, let my lips lightly touch the spot behind her ear, wrenching a moan out of her. “And Kathryn?” I murmur quietly onto her skin. She shivers again.

“Yes?” Her fingers grip my shirt.

“The soup is getting cold.”


End file.
